The Walls Within
by FireKat
Summary: *compleate* A pilots reflects upon his life. Please R&R!
1. The Walls Within

Hello, this is my first story so please be kind and please R&R.  
  
  
  
The Walls Within  
  
By: Dead Inside  
  
It all started with walls. They are very important. With out them I can't live. I've spent my entire life building, creating, and maintaining walls. They are a very integral part of me. I don't know what to do with out them.  
  
I put them there for a reason. I build them around my heart, my mind, and my soul. They protect me and keep me safe from all of the cruel and evil people out there. I sit inside my walls looking out at everyone. No one was supposed to be allowed inside. There were no doors, no windows, and no openings. Just big solid walls. More than one set. Many, many sets that protect me from being hurt. I wouldn't know what to do without these walls.  
  
I'd be left naked and vulnerable. Something I refuse to ever do. A few people have made it in and I've always regretted it. Every single one hurt me. Everyone left me and didn't care, didn't look back to see the ruins they  
  
left me in. And then I would just make more walls. Repair the old ones and make new ones even stronger. Look for those damn cracks that people get into and patch them up.  
  
Dreams  
  
Dreams were worse. Long ago I had dreams. Real dreams. Things I wanted to do, to be, to see. I recognize that they will never happen now. It was very hard. It was hard to let them go, to see them floating away on the wind. And hope. Damn hope! I would just come to the point of giving up and moving on with my life. But no, fucking hope! It would just rear up just enough that I would rethink what I was doing and say well maybe it can happen. Stupid, STUPID FUCKING HOPE! It has caused me more pain than I ever could have imagined.  
  
You would think that it would be an easy thing to overcome, but nooo. The human spirit is tenacious and annoying! It refuses to give up even in the face of the most adverse of problems. Damn hope!  
  
And then I had finally come to a point where even the hope had been quelled. I had finally made a little box that could hold it and shut it up. I had my life into a perfect balance. Perfect control to everyone else it looked like  
  
I had a damn near perfect life. A stable job, people who (supposedly) cared about me, a place of my own, a car, and all of life's little convinces a person could ask for. Who decided that that was the perfect life? It's funny how much people don't care what you are really feeling as long as you look okay. As long and you seem to be happy and content everyone just leaves you alone and thinks that you must have the perfect life. And that should be a good thing right?  
  
It should. That should have made me perfectly happy. I should have been ecstatic. Everyone would finally leave me alone and stop asking are you okay? Like they ever want to hear an answer other than "yea, I'm fine." But I wasn't happy. I wasn't content. I was still sad and miserable and alone. I think I like to be miserable. There must be something wrong with me. And that's what made me mad. Everyone should see that I'm not "fine" that I'm not "okay." They should truly care and pull it out of me what's really wrong. Not that I'd let them, but they should have tried, shouldn't they? But then again they think I'm fine and that everything is okay- 'cause I have the perfect life remember? But shouldn't they be able to see through that and see it for the mask it truly is?  
  
Oh the masks. I forgot about the masks. Really there's mostly just the one. It has many layers though. It slips right into place the moment anyone comes around. I don't even notice it anymore. For a while I thought that it was truly who I was. I had become the mask. Everyone liked it so much and didn't really want to see anything but who I was with that damn mask on.  
  
Oddly enough my caretakers are the ones that taught me about masks. No matter what was going on when no one was there- even if lives had just been destroyed- the second anyone came around or we were out in public the mask would magically appear. They would look happy and wonderful- not a care in the world. Many people thought they were just about perfect. That's because no one ever saw them at home when no one else but "family" was around. They wouldn't think that they were so perfect then. All hell broke loose when no outsiders were around. And that I believe is where I first learned to create and wear a mask.  
  
By the age of five I had perfected it. People only saw what I wanted them to see. Now as an "adult" the mask was beyond perfect. It was always in place, it never came down. Not anymore. Every once in a while someone would break through, I have regretted every single time that happened and vowed never again.  
  
I started wearing that mask as a shield and it worked wonderfully well. After a while even the caretakers bought in to it and believed what they were seeing. It had been quite some time since anything had rocked the proverbial boat in my life. It seemed that I had finally gotten everything together so well that nothing would ever get through again. Not only that, but everyone always praised me on how well I was doing and how "together" my life was. Hah! If only they ever knew...  
  
Oh, my life has reached a new all time low. Now he won't even give me the time of day and I'm having job career choice issues. What am I going to do in a few years? This job wont be here forever and to move on I need more skills than what I have. School? That's an option, but really after all I've been through I don't really want to go to school. And I've never even liked it, not even a little.  What am I going to do?  
  
Now I'm just empty. Just floating along. I feel nothing, or at least nothing good. I feel despair and loneliness and pain. Does that count? What am I going to do with my life? I just can't keep going on like this. I've lost the will to live, but I'm still here and to all others it probably appears that I'm doing just fine. I'm not. I'm coasting. I'm just ghosting along.  
  
That's what I call it. Ghosting- it's what I do when I've stopped caring. I float along in the wind and to all outward appearances I'm ok. But inside I'm dead and dying. I'm empty and all I feel is pain. It's like being in a coma, but your still living your life. I kind of wish I was in a coma. It might make things easer. Probably not. With my luck it would suck even more than my life.  
  
I will not take my life- sometimes I think about it. Sometimes I wish I could. But I never do and I never will. In most matters I just won't take the easy way out. That and my fear that what's left for me after that would be even worse than what is here now.  
  
I'm scared. I'm scared of my self, of my future, of everything. It's been so long since I haven't been scared that I can't even remember what it's like not to be scared. I don't remember what being happy is either. I can fool my self for long periods of time. But it always comes back here. It comes down to I'm just scared of every thing. But I think the thing that I'm afraid of most is the future. I just don't see one for myself. I don't see the things that I want. And if you can't find a future that isn't what you want it to be, what do you do?  
  
People tell me, just look at what you want and find a way to get it. Start your future now and work towards your goal. Well what do you do when the only thing you want in your future depends completely on another person? What do you do then, huh? I've always wanted to say that to 'them.' You know the ones that say crap like that.  
  
My heart hurts. I want to cry. But what good will crying do me? None. So I don't cry; I just stuff it back down inside where no one can see it. Eventually it comes up and out and I have to give into it for a little while. But no one ever sees that anyway. They're never there when I need them. I hate everyone. I try to anyway. Damn this other person in my head. It makes me do and say things that I don't want to. It makes me be happy and cheerful when I don't want to be. It makes me care about all of those people who don't have the time for me when I need it. It makes me push aside  
  
my feelings and problems and comfort those around me, even if they hurt me. I always have this need to comfort others, but no one will comfort me. Nothing can comfort me. They've tried many times. But their words just sound hollow and they look like they don't even believe what they are saying. And if they do believe it, they certainly don't put it into practice in there own little worlds.  
  
Why do people give hollow advice?? It sounds good, but what's the point? It doesn't make me feel better. Maybe they do it so that they can feel better. Like somehow they gave me advice and "cheered" me up a little so they can feel better about them selves and their own pathetic little worlds.  
  
I hate everyone. I love everyone. I would do anything for someone I considered a friend. I guess that's why I don't have too many friends. They take up too much time and energy. You have to talk to them and make them feel better about themselves, but what about me? I'm tired of making  
  
everyone else feel better and continuing on in their little oblivious worlds.  
  
What about me? I don't even care about me. Why should I think anyone else does? Why should they take time out of caring about themselves to help me? I don't know the answer to that, but I want to. I want to understand. I hate  
  
being left in the dark. And that's where I live. In the dark. Alone. And scared of my self, my future, and of others. Well ain't my life just peachy? I'm so freaken wonderful. They say that a lot. That I'm special and  
  
that I'm one of a kind.  
  
And that's just what I'm afraid of. I'm one of a kind. How could I ever find the other half of my soul when there's only one of me? That's my greatest fear. That there is no one out there who will care about me. My soul mate is non-existent. How could there possibly be some one who could appreciate me for who I am? I just don't think that it's possible.  
  
And that is the one thing I want. I want to be the center of someone's universe. I want someone to want me as much and I want them. To love me; all of me with their whole heart. I'm always so willing to give. I give my time, attention, and money to others, but I never get the same back. No one is ever willing to give me so much of them. I know that's too much to ask of anyone, but why? I seem willing enough to do it, why can't there be someone out there who is willing to do the same thing.  
  
Love. Bah! It's such bullshit. It's not a warm fuzzy feeling or something that strikes people at random. It's a choice. You have to choose to love some one or you really don't love them at all. If you can't look at that person and say "I see all of your faults, your weaknesses, your problems; and despite that I still wish to care about you and try to help you through this shitty thing called life," then it's not love. It's lust or want or need, but never love. I think that's part of what's wrong with people now, they think that they love, but they just don't understand. It's always about them and what they can get out of it. I admit I want something for myself, but I'm so willing to give too.  
  
Why don't people see that? What's wrong with everyone? I know- they all have their heads stuck up their asses 'cause that's all they care about is kissing their own ass. Screw everyone else- it's all about me- 'cause I'm so freaken wonderful. *gag*  
  
I hate people. I hate my self. I hate this world. Do I love anything? Yes I love my misery. I wouldn't know what to do with out my damn misery. I embrace it. I feed it. I stoke it on purpose. Why? Hmmmm... because it's the only thing that has never rejected me. The only thing that never left me. It's always there just waiting for me to come back to it. I repress it for a while. I attempt to live in this fucking world and have a "normal" life. But life always kicks me in the ass and when I've been hurt yet again I go  
  
back to my misery that never left and was just sitting there waiting for me. My good friend.  
  
It's gotten to the point where I'm afraid to be happy. Every time I think some thing is going my way, or I just can't believe that things worked out so well I get this feeling of dread. It starts in my stomach and doesn't go away. And then some thing bad happens and I feel justified and go back to my damn misery and sit in my little stinking hole of self pity and shame. I love it down here. Part of me has taken on permanent residence. I just sit and wallow in it. I love it! I love to roll around in it like so much mud. Until it covers me and my hurt and wounds. It sinks into my skin and makes me feel better. Not really better, just justified that I should hate this world and everyone in it- including myself.  
  
I've read stories of how people cut themselves to make it feel better. Of how they inflict bodily pain in order to get rid of some of the mental pain. I've often wondered how that would feel. To just pick up a razor and slice it across my skin. Not to kill my self, just to cause some pain. Something I can deal with. Of course then my rational side kicks in and says that I wouldn't do any good or make me feel any better. It would just destroy my skin and leave lots of marks. And I never have tried and I'm sure I never  
  
will. But in my mind I like to picture it. My imagination is so good it's almost like I actually have done it. I can just feel it.  
  
Mostly what I really want out of it is to show certain people and say, "Look at what you've reduced me to! Look at what you made me do! You treated me like shit and hurt me when you knew I was already hurting. LOOK at what you've done to me!!" I really want to say that. I could say it anyway, but they would never see the actual wound that's already there. They would never see the wounds they inflicted on my torn heart and shredded soul. So I sit here and wallow some more in my self pity. But I can only do it for so long and that other person comes out to yell at me. It tells me to look around and see all the starving people of the world and how millions of people are homeless and hurting. And you sit there pissing and moaning even though you live in a nice house and have a good job and your own car and a life style that many would kill for. You have no right to be miserable, so pick up and carry on with  
  
your life. And for god's sake smile! You don't need to inflict your pathetic problems on other people. They have enough to deal with. So look like your happy and that makes everyone else happy and go on your fucking way. I hate everyone!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
This is a very personal piece for me. It's actually about my life, but I thought that it would fit one of the pilots very well. Let me know what you think! 


	2. Authors Notes

Well I'm glad someone out there understood where I'm coming from. Thanks for all of your support!  
  
The pilot I identify with the most is Duo. We even look similar. I have long reddish/brown hair that reaches my waist and often do wear it in a braid, even before I saw the show. ^__^  
  
But really I'm a good portion of Duo, with a healthy dose of Wufei's justice and honor, a piece of Trowa's stoic observation, a dash of Heero's dedication, and a large pinch of Quatra's maternal instincts. ^__~  
  
Again, thank you everyone for your support and understanding. It really means a lot to me. 


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